


Practice Should Be Cancelled

by Arisprite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Again! i am trash, Anxiety, Character Study, Gen, Not really hurt comfort because Yuri refuses the comfort part, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Victor tries, Written bc I am sick and I'm projecting, Yuri is a terrible sick person, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: Yuri has had a low key cold for days, and it's really grating on his nerves. It doesn't help that the forced inactivity is pushing up anxieties he'd thought he had under control. A companion story to Practice is Cancelled but the only connection is that they're both sickfics, so no need to one before the other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick and anxious right now, so I decided to get my feelings out through Yuri... sorry kid.

For the third morning in a row, Yuri woke with a sore throat and sluggish limbs. 

“Argh…” he groaned, and rolled over to bury his face into his pillow… who turned out to be Makkachin. He’d gotten in the habit of sneaking in here while Yuri was asleep (which made Victor hilariously huffy in the mornings, giving the dog a betrayed eye). Makkachin whuffed at Yuri and Yuri scratched his side, while trying to clear his throat. The scratchiness didn’t seem worse than yesterday, but it wasn’t better either, even though he’d been downing tea and vitamins, and taking it easy in practice at Victor’s insistence. 

Yuri had been fighting a low key cold for the better part of a week, and it was getting supremely annoying. He’d hoped that he’d fight it off quickly, and for the first couple of days it seemed to work as nothing got worse, but now, this long into it, he was beginning to hope that he’d wake feeling awful, if only that would burn through it quicker. 

Coughing slightly with his dry throat, Yuri groped for his cold tea, and then glasses and phone in that order. The tea soothed the tiny sore throat, but he could tell he was mildly congested, and just this side of headachy. His body was exhausted, though he’d gone to bed early… argh, when would this end? 

Still, he pushed himself out of bed, and began waking up his body. He was due to meet Victor at the rink for some easy workouts that morning, and with his tiredness, he was glad that it wasn’t a more strenuous plan. 

Yuri stumbled out into the kitchen area of the inn, and tried not to look as pitiful as he felt. 

“Morning,” he said, and his mom turned from her cooking to give him a sympathetic look. Guess he hadn’t succeeded. 

“Yuri, how are you feeling?” she asked, coming over to feel his head. As with every morning, there was no fever. Yuri frowned. 

“No different,” he sighed. Hiroko hummed. 

“Your father sometimes gets those lingering things. You’re taking care of yourself, right? Not pushing too hard.” 

“No, Mom. Victor’s insisting I take it easy, don’t worry.” 

Yuri watched his mother nod, pleased, and dish him a bowl of the breakfast she was making for the guests. He picked at it, with only half his usual appetite. 

It honestly was part of the problem. Victor pushing for him to rest. Every athlete had worked through a cold, that was nothing, and Victor knew that. He was sure that if Victor was the one sick, then he’d be clamoring to continue on with his usual responsibilities. But, Yuri was feeling coddled, and lazy. Not being pushed from a coach or professors, and lacking the energy to push himself, left him feeling antsy and anxious. It likely wasn’t helping his illness either, but Yuri was trying everything he had to get better without going crazy from inactivity. And with the Cup of China a month away, he really couldn’t afford to take this much time off. 

Yuri yawned, and wished he could go back to bed - but even if he could, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without the urge to get up and _do_ something. 

Victor was waiting at the rink, and Yuri would insist on skating today. Victor had fussed that the cold air would bother his lungs, or the activity would tire him out too much. But he needed it, he knew he did. He was already getting weaker, he _had_ to not lose the work he’d done. 

Yuri ran part of the way to the rink, until the top of his lungs were aflame with an itchy burn, and his nose was running. Then he walked the rest of the way, fingers twitching in urgency and frustration. The only good thing was that he was no longer gasping when he reached the front doors of the rink. 

Victor was waiting for him in the locker room, having likely done his usual work out already this morning - he was a morning person, save on the days he drank, and Yuri could never drag himself out of bed as early as Victor was bouncing around. He beamed at Yuri, tilting his head like Makkachin. 

“Yuri! You’re still looking under the weather? Didn’t I tell you to take it easy?” he asked, his voice too grating for how Yuri was feeling.

“Yeah,” Yuri said, trying not to grumble, or heaven forbid, snap. “I can do a normal work out today, though. I’m feeling better.” 

A bald faced lie, and it seemed like Victor could tell. “Hmm,” he mused, a finger on his lips. “I’d prefer to not run you into the ground. Let’s do some strength training, and then maybe a light jog and we’ll see from there.” 

“I want to skate.” Yuri’s voice was firm, and Victor blinked. 

“The cold-” 

“I want to skate, Victor,” Yuri said, and he knew his voice was bordering on disrespectful, but Victor seemed to take it in stride. 

“Alright then. Can’t keep a skater from his ice, after all. Come along, we’ll begin our warm up in the stands, and then do some skating.” Victor’s voice was light, and his smile bright, and no one would look at him and think ‘mother hen’ but Yuri was so done with it all, so done with feeling babied and ill, that he yanked on his skates, and tied them quickly, before he stepped out onto the ice. He completely ignored Victor’s calls, as he skated in a quick, hard circle. He’d warm up out here. Here was where he could breathe, and not feel that he was wasting everyone’s time and energy. Here was where the fluttering anxiety that always bothered him when he relaxed too much was only a distant hum. 

Victor was watching him in disapproval from the side wall, arms folded, and in truth Yuri could already feel his breath coming a little short, far too soon, but Yuri ignored both. He did a long loop, and then fell into some of the step work for Eros. 

It was quick and intricate, and Yuri couldn’t think about anything but the scrape of the ice, and where his feet and arms went. No jumps, he wasn’t that stupid, but he ran through most of his short program before he had to stop. 

Yuri slid to a standstill, and then fell forward onto his hands, kneeling against the cold ice. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t breathe through the burning need to cough. He clawed at his throat, and let out the hacking. He felt like he was choking on fire, and tears beaded at his eyes. He coughed and coughed. 

Dammit, this was all his fault. He was so weak, so idiotic to get sick and not rest, and rest too much and let the anxiety catch up to him. Dammit dammit dammit- 

Then, Victor’s hands were on his shoulders, his expensive shoes sliding on the ice as he knelt to support Yuri. 

“Yuri! Yuri, breathe, come on, breathe with me!” Victor’s voice was panicked, and Yuri caught glimpses of wide blue eyes and worried lips in a little o. Yuri pushed out a breath, like he was blowing out birthday candles, before he let himself suck in a little air. Repeat. Gain control. Not really a panic attack, but might as well be, with how little grasp over his emotions he felt. 

Coughing a little more almost upset his rhythm, but Yuri got a hold of himself, and realized the ice was burning his hands. He pulled them back into his lap, and let himself stay there, hands on his knees, breathing hard still. Victor was kneeling in front of him, probably cold on the ice, and looking at him with an exasperated worry. Yuri went red with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry!” he said, bowing forward over his knees. His voice broke while he said it, protesting the rough treatment. He coughed again, and felt his body shaking. Victor made a little ‘tch noise, and took his shoulders, manhandling him upright, and then putting an arm around his waist, lifting Yuri’s arm to go around his shoulders. 

“Can you stand?” Victor asked, and Yuri nodded, though he honestly wasn’t sure. Victor heaved them both upright, and then walked Yuri off the ice. His body was tense beside Yuri’s, and Yuri winced, knowing he was in for a lecture. 

Yuri was sat on the bench beside the rink, and Yuri slumped, pressing his hand against his sore chest, feeling the congestion - if he didn’t feel awful before, he certainly did now. His head pounded, and his fingers were still trembling. Victor knelt in front of him, and before Yuri had really realized, he’d untied his skates and taken them off for him, setting them on the bench beside Yuri with a sharp thump. 

“Y-you didn’t ha-”

“Yuri, what is going on?” Victor said, still kneeling on the ground. He looked up at him, eyes fiery. Yuri had seen Victor lecture, seen him upset with him even, but he’d never purposefully done the opposite of what Victor said. “I told you to take it easy, and you go and about kill yourself. You could have been seriously injured-” 

“I skipped all the jumps,” Yuri protested, and then slapped his own mouth closed. “I’m sorry I interrupted-!” 

“Yuri!” Victor could have been said to snap just there, but it sounded more worried than angry now. “What is wrong?” 

Yuri grabbed the seat of the bench for something to hold on to, squeezing his eyes shut. “I- I just hate being sick, and I hate not being able to do this!” 

There was a long pause, and Victor let out a quiet breath. Yuri heard him get to his feet, brushing off his knees with quiet pats. Then, a hand fell onto the top of Yuri’s head, and he flinched, before peeling open his eyes. 

Victor was shaking his head, still exasperated, but fond too. “Yuri, you need to rest when you’re ill. Even in Russia, Yakov would force us to take a day off if we got ill. Better to rest up for a day, than to grind yourself down until you can’t help but fall. It grated on me too. It felt like I was losing time, losing my hard earned progress…” 

Yuri nodded under the weight of Victor’s hand. “I can’t stand doing nothing… but I’m so tired.” 

Victor chuckled. “So rest, Yuri. The ice will still be here when you’re well.” 

Yuri wanted to argue more. To ask ‘what if it wasn’t?’ what if the next few days were supposed to have been a breakthrough, that would have let him qualify for the Grand Pre, to win even? What if he was missing his chance by closing his eyes here and now? So many things weighed on him - Victor’s refusal to explain a coaching fee, his routine and whether he’d be able to do them, living in his parent’s house again with nothing accomplished if he failed here, Victor himself was _here_ , and was counting on him for so much, and his reputation would never be the same if Yuri bombed it… It was all too much, and not running or skating or training everyday was a step backwards… 

But, his body was betraying him. He could breathe now, but his chest ached, and he was sniffling every few seconds. He was still shaking, and now that he thought about it, he was freezing too. 

Victor’s hand moved to his cheek, and then forehead under his bangs. Yuri would have blushed, but it felt like he was doing that already. 

“Ah, you have a fever already, Yuri,” Victor admonished. Then he sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Victor’s voice got a little further away, and Yuri blinked. “Victor?” 

“I’m going to go see if Yuuko or Takeshi can give us a ride back to the inn. You’re in no state to walk back.” 

Yuri hummed, and let Victor walk off, still holding on to the bench as his head swam. The anxiety was still there, just underneath the surface, but it would recede as soon as he could run and skate again. He sniffed hard, and then sneezed a few times in a row, wincing. Well, something good at come from his outburst - he well and truly felt awful now. Perhaps the fever meant that he could finally get over his damnable cold. And in the meantime, after all that, sleep sounded better than anything.


End file.
